


Plaid and Waistcoats

by kittymsmith



Category: Parasol Protectorate - Gail Carriger
Genre: Cross dressing?, F/M, Humor, Suggestive, crackship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4779005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymsmith/pseuds/kittymsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sidheag decides to steal Lyall's pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pilfering Pants

**Author's Note:**

> I love Lyall and Biffy, but this crackship came to mind after reading Prudence and was fueled by a dear friend.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is now edited so it isn't so ugly. No randomly cut off words or anything. :3

Sidheag Maccon, Lady Kingair and Alpha of the Kingair Pack, had absolutely no intentions of getting dressed that day.

She was in her room on her bed, stark naked and smoking a cigar. She'd expected the habit to repulse her after the change, given werewolf scent, but she'd discovered that a werewolves repulsion to tobacco seemed centered on snuff, and therefore her smoking habits were mostly unaffected. In fact it might be said she started smoking heavier, as it hindered her in no way, and she was Alpha, so she stopped giving a damn and smoked whenever she damn well pleased.

And she pleased to do so on this Sunday, when any sort of training, conditioning, or fighting was forbidden unless absolutely necessary. She knew the rest of the pack was just as lazily situated as she was, or were improperly dressed and milling around the barracks, sloshing some foul language around with their tea and card games. She'd hear laughter now and then and was tempted to join them, but that meant a corset and petticoats and gown. Then again she could just pilfer a shirt and trousers from their drawers and wander around; wasn't like she hadn't worn mens clothes before. But then she'd had them in her size, and there was no werewolf that was her size.

Her height? Sure. She was a very tall woman, either at or past the six foot mark last she recalled. But even then she was skinny and lanky, so she'd have to severly belt the trousers and would be swimming in a shirt. Actually she didn't know if she could even find a pair of trousers, what with the men and their kilts.

She heard another bout of laughter and frowned. Her cigar was almost gone, and she'd have to get up and cross her room to get another. She might as well stay up and join the fun. But the problem still remained on where she would be getting the trousers.

Then it hit her.

Sidheag finished her cigar and put the nub in an ashtray beside her bed. She exhaled, watching the smoke swirl upwards and dissipate as it reached the canopy of her bed, and then rolled off her mattress and stood midst a pile of discarded petticoats and a top skirt. The whole of her room was like that; scattered with petticoats and corsets and blouses with a smattering of shoes and several was also a good deal of weapons littered around the various tables, and her vanity was covered in a mixture of sparse, simple jewelry, firearm ammunition, pieces of sewing kits, hatpins despite the fact she hadn't worn one in years at this point, and a worryingly stale sandwich.

She bypassed the catastrophe and grabbed a house robe from a hook by her door and threw it on and opened her door an inch. Her supernatural hearing told her that all the men were down the hall in the commons room - including Lyall. She grinned a bit and, feeling like a teenager back at finishing school, tiptoed down to her beta's room and entered.

Unlike her own it was impeccable. A wash basin in the corner filled with fresh, unused water. A desk with neatly laid out quill pens in a row beside an inkpot, a stack of paper settled straightly to the side. There really was no sign of a person staying in the room other than that and a avidly dog-eared book on the bedside titled  _1001 Sheep and Their Names, Origins, Diets, and Current Habitats_.

She went to the Armour and opened it. Jackets and waistcoats were hung up without a wrinkle in the fabric, and upon inspection shirts and trousers were folded in similar fashion in the drawers.

Sidheag disregarded her robe and took out one of the shirts and matched it up to herself, looking in a body length mirror to the side. Like most gentlemen, Lyall bought his shirts a little bit long so they could be properly tucked into the trousers. And considering that the professor wasn't very long to begin with, it was the perfect length for Sidheag's torso. She buttoned it on and then pulled out a pair of his trousers and matched them up, gigging at the fact that they were, fashion wise, far too short. They barely hid her ankles.

"Never realized just how short you are, Professor," Sidheag mused while tucking the shirt into the trousers. She thankfully wouldn't have to steal a pair of his suspenders, her hips did the work of holding up the trousers. She paused and looked at herself in the mirror, then over at the waistcoats. Should she borrow one of those, as well? She wasn't sure, as she knew just as well as anyone else in the pack how fond Lyall was of his waistcoats.

She reached out and took a pale green one with a swirling dark green pattern on it, like the embroidery on a rug. She rather liked it, but it didn't match the shirt, which happened to be a lavender. She decided, why the bloody hell not? So she laid down the waistcoat and removed the shirt, folding it best she could before taking a white one.

"My Lady?"

Sidheag jumped, a cold feeling in her feet. She whirled around with the shirt just over her shoulders to see Lyall who had an expression she'd never seen on him before: shock.

"W...What are you..." He stopped, staring at her naked chest, and then her face that, she imagined, was rather red and held a mixed expression.

"The shirt didnae match the waistcoat." Was all she could think to say.

Lyall's eyes slowly moved from his alpha to the waistcoat on the bed. "I would have chosen the blue with your complexion," he said, at an equal loss for words.

"I wouldna thought of that."

He looked back at her and again, he looked at her chest. It was then Sidheag recalled that Lyall's preferences were not entirely reserved to the male side of things and quickly covered herself with the shirt. He flushed bright red and shook his head as she began buttoning it. "Apologies, Lady Alpha."

"It's nae bothered ye before." She said and then, taking his advice, switched out the green waistcoat for the blue, and began buttoning that up. Lyall returned his eyes to her only when he was sure she was done and said, "Usually I am prepared when you enter the realm of the all-together. I was entirely unprepared to encounter you as such in my room, stealing my clothes ... Which I would like to inquire about as well."

Sidheag breathed deeply, also coming to the revelation that her hair wasn't entirely put up. That, oddly enough, made her feel far more naked than she had been a moment before. "I didnae want tae bother with lady's garb but, uh, I wasna sure if the rest of the pack had trousers. Not tae mention they're far bigger than me."

Lyall, now seeming fully composed despite a hint of color to the cheeks, just nodded, giving her a once over. "I'm not sure if this makes me a very short man, or you a very tall woman."

"A bit of both I reckon." Sidheag said. There was about two or three inches between the professor and her, so they were both a bit in the odd spectrum of things.

"Ah, well then. I'd advise you continue on your way, Lady Maccon, and allow me to continue about my business. Oh, and do keep the waistcoat clean if possible, would you?"

Sidheag just nodded a bit and scurried on past him. She wrapped up her hair and came to the commons room getting a good many laughs from the pack and a dumbfounded stares from the random mortal soldiers that had come over to the supernatural barracks for cards.

It felt good to run around in trousers again after so many years of not doing so. Sidheag was more social than she had been in a good long while. Partly because she was a sucker for a game of cribbage, partly because she wanted to spend as much time in Lyall's clothes - which still carried a heavy sandalwood smell despite being freshly washed - as possible before being confined back to skirts, and also partly because she'd missed spending Sundays like this.

Lyall came out eventually and pretended to look surprised at Sidheag's appearance, garnering a good deal of laughter from all the men.

"I'd wondered why my room looked disturbed," he noted, then sat down to play cards as well.

"It needed a little ruffling." She responded as the game went on. They had lunch and dinner as usual, though Sidheag changed for the latter, more out of habit than for the sake of propriety. After dinner the men all went to the smoking room and Sidheag, as usual, ended up alone in her room. Sometimes, when Captain Fetherstonehaugh would have dinner with the supernaturals as a sign of good will, she'd end up in the sad excuse for a library that was present with Mrs. Fetherstonehaugh and have a good chat that consisted of more foul language than any two ladies should be using and slightly unpleasant sherry, but tonight it was just her and the unpleasant sherry, and the quiet.

That was until there was a knock on her door and she found herself inviting Professor Lyall inside.

"My Lady, I -" Professor Lyall stopped dead and stared at Sidheag's room. "Oh my goodness."

"Yes, Professor?" She purposefully ignored him, turning around in her chair that was draped in stockings and bloomers. If she was being honest she was slightly embarrassed he was seeing all this; her underclothes were, after all, strewn about most haphazardly.

"You're worse than your grandfather," he said, stepping in and looking around. "Where are my clothes?"

Sidheag looked around with him. "Hm, I haven't the slightest idea, tae be honest. Not on the floor, least I dinnae think they are."

Lyall sighed deeply. It was the slightly exasperated sigh, his most common one. The fact that he had distinguishable sighs - or at least sighs Sidheag had been able to distinguish - said something about the Beta that garnered a bit of sympathy from Sidheag.

"I do ken where the waistcoat is, at least." She said, noting with an odd sense of pleasure that he perked up a bit. Sidheag got up, cigar in mouth, and took the waistcoat from where she'd draped it over her dressing screen, which you could barely see under all the clothes piled atop it. Lyall took the waistcoat gratefully and looked around the room.

"This really is just  _awful_."

Sidheag rolled her eyes and sat down again, tapping the ash off the end of her cigar. "You clean it up then."

Lyall looked at her, then calmly folded the waistcoat and started to do just that, picking up a handful of petticoats.

Sidheag was flabbergasted, sputtering out, "I - I didnae mean it!"

"Well, it's not the  _first_ time I'd be cleaning up after a Maccon." He almost teased, folding the petticoats with peculiar ease. He picked up another handful of underclothes, some of which were tossed in Sidheag's overflowing hamper, the others folded. Sidheag was in such a shock she didn't stop him, instead staring as he put a pile of folded petticoats in a drawer, and then started picking up dresses, tossing those that did not pass the sniff test into the hamper.

"Y-You're mad," she mumbled.

"Not the first time a Maccon has told me that." He snorted, then looked over. "Now are you going to help me, or are you still resigned to wallowing in ...  _This_."

Sidheag couldn't believe the nerve of him. If she'd been mortal, she would have given him a smack with something silver. But seeing as she couldn't touch the bloody stuff anymore, she simply growled, her canines poking over her teeth. Lyall paused before tugging his collar out to show his neck. He didn't give an apology, however, and instead said, "I didn't mean to be so harsh, Lady Alpha, but the question still stands."

Now she just stared at him. She hoped he would have got the hint and left, but no, not Professor Lyall. He just shrugged and continued his work until she came right up to him and glared, somewhat downward.

"You've got far too much courage for your own good, Beta!"

"And you've got far too many petticoats for any woman dressing like she's from this decade, My Lady, so unless you're going to assist me this is going to take another decade to clean up."

Sidheag was, once again, shocked. He didn't look the least bit intimidated. He didn't have any smell of apprehension or unease. She cursed her damnable Gramps for numbing him and, at a lost of what else to do, grabbed up a handful of bloomers, petticoats, and a dress or two.

Working together in an awkward silence the pair made quick work of the mess. Lyall made no further comments, though he raised his eyebrows quite a few times when finding bloomers in her button drawer, or a pair of stockings weaved through the ribbon of a corset - which baffled Sidheag as much as it did him. At one point he reached behind her desk and came up with something that caused him to giggle.

"What are you looking at?" Sidheag turned her head around. Lyall quickly mollified his grin and started rapidly folding something something. Sidheag marched over and, upon seeing what it was, bushed deeply.

"So ... You like sheep?" Lyall gave a restrained smile before handing over the frilly flannel nightgown that was covered in dozens of little sheep, grazing and hopping over fences.

"Shove off," she muttered while putting it away. He still chuckled now and then as they were finishing up the tidying. At the end of it, Sidheag discovered she had two more side tables than she'd originally thought, and a spare armchair.

" _Much_  better." Lyall said in a relieved tone.

"I suppose it's nice." Sidheag grumbled out.

Without another word, he left. Sidheag didn't even get to say thank you, not that she wanted to. It wasn't her idea to clean the room. Though, looking around again, it was a good idea nonetheless.


	2. Morning Bites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fixed, no more cutting off words or otherwise. :)

Sidheag shifted to her human figure and wrapped her cloak around herself. Lyall was by her side immedaitely, wiping blood from his face with a handkerchief. Her looked her way and held it out.

"You've got a bit of blood, My Lady."

"Aye," Lachlan snorted, "dripping off your face."

Sidheag shot him a look but accepted the handkerchief, effectively ruining it, and then wrung it out and swiped her face again. "I'll get you a new one."

"No need." Lyall shrugged, tossing it to the side. Captain Featherstonehaugh came trotting over on his horse, only wiping sweat off with his handkerchief. He gave the pack a once over before turning his head and shouting to another of the mortal soldiers, "No casualties! Mark it down!"

Sidheag twitched when he said that, she knew. Her mind always briefly flew back to the one time, the only time, the Captain had ever said there was a casualty among the pack. She ignored it now, much as she could, and looked up when the Captain turned her way again.

"Good work men - and lady. We would have been stale toast without you." He frowned at Sidheag and offered his handkerchief.

"Thank ye, but I'm fine."

"No, no, I insist." He waved it in her direction. "You've got a bit of something, er, well -"

"All over your face." Lachlan said.

Sidheag ignored her Gamma and said, "nae, I'll just ruin it. Taint any casualties in your ranks, Captain?"

"None, thankfully. We came very close when a sniper nicked Willingshambourough, but he'll pull through." The Captain tucked away his handkerchief. "I'll be sending a report in soon. But in the meantime, I would like to invite you and your pack to a little gala my wife is hosting - garden party, if I heard correctly. Around eleven-thirty if I remember correctly."

Sidheag glanced at the pack and then nodded. "Aye, sounds good. We'll be there precisely."

"Per your usual." The captain smiled. "Right-o, then! Good day - er, night - fellows! Rest well!" And with that he trotted off.

"Git," she grumbled. "Alright, pack, back tae the barracks! I dinnae want anyone staying up; whomever is still asleep by ten o'clock tomorrow will be doused with ice water!"

"Yes, m'Lady." They responded in unison, making no protests. Their voices were weighed down with weariness, and it showed in their steps. Sidheag then led them all back to the barracks, Lyall at her side. He didn't look as tired as the rest of the lot, but she attributed that to his ability to disguise his fatigue. At the barracks they all separated, Sidheag going to her room.

She dressed herself in the ridiculous nightgown that had made Lyall giggle. She stretched her tense muscles and washed her face in a basin, staring at herself in the mirror. She wished she'd been bitten younger. When she was in her twenties, like she and Niall had planned. She'd already started graying then, but by the time she got the bite ten years later, she might have as easily been 56 as 36.

With a disappointment sigh she dried her face with a towel and undid her hair, brushing it out and then wrapping it up under a nightcap. She made an attempt at sleeping, but her body was still tense. Too tense to sleep, despite how much she felt like keeling over on her bed and never getting up again. Unhappily she tried smoking a cigar, but it didn't help. Then she tried some sherry, but since she was a werewolf it no longer had the soothing affect it once did.

Now both tired, frustrated, and even more tense than before, Sidheag left her room under the impression that everyone else was asleep in order to walk herself into exhaustion.

She didn't get far. A some dozen paces from her door and she was by the door to the dismal library the barracks possessed, with only about three shelves of books and nearly sagging furniture with ugly brocade patterning. At this door a voice called softly, just enough for her to hear and stop in her tracks, "perhaps some tea, my Lady?"

She looked inside the room and saw Professor Lyall in his jimjams, just as composed in the blue stripes as he would be in proper gentleman's attire.

"What are you doing up?" She did her best to look disapproving despite her frilly, lamb covered nightgown and white nightcap tied under her chin.

"Same as you, m'Lady, trying to fall asleep." He gestured to a tea trey on the coffee table in front of him. "I've found Earl Grey often does the trick."

Sidheag made a face. "I'm not one for Earl Grey. It's like drinking perfume."

Lyall shrugged, as if to say the invitation still stood. Sidheag took it, exhaling through her nose as she sat beside Lyall on the couch and accepted the cup of tea he poured for her. There were no sweeteners on hand, which didn't make much difference since Sidheag always took her tea black, even if she hated said tea.

"So, what's troubling you?" He asked, taking a sip of tea. He stared at the fire he must have started. Sidheag could picture the bags under his eyes, centuries of sleepless nights weighing down the skin.

"Dinnae ken, exactly. Tense, and I cannae seem tae rid of it."

"Same." Lyall sighed. This was an exhausted sort of sigh. The one that said he really needed the rest that was being unfairly withheld from him, much like Sidheag. He looked younger without the glasses, and softer. Less like a Professor and more like the average, mildly handsome man he was. Sidheag found herself liking it, though she didn't say so. "It is a feeling you'll have to get used to, my Lady. It is seldom discussed, but all wolves face it. Too many fights, too much killing."

"So you often loose sleep?" She asked, almost dour.

"I've learned to sleep soundly over the centuries. It's worse for some than it is for others; often it's conscience, and how all the death and time wears upon someone. If you have a guilty conscience or a troubled one, you're more likely to be kept awake by either mind or body, or both."

"But I dinnae have a guilty conscience. I've nae killed a man that didnae need killed."

"No, perhaps not, but the action still wears." Lyall shrugged a bit, shoulders rolling in one graceful swoop. "It might be something else that's bothering you without you knowing it. Old foes, friends who are gone, mistakes, regrets. A werewolf's heart is his most delicate asset, and plays more into his decision than it ever did as a mortal. One of the worst things a wolf can have is past lovers that refuse to ... Stay in the past."

Sidheag sighed and watched the embers float up from the fire, contrasting sharply with the library's otherwise dark interior. "I wouldna doubt it being the last one."

"I wouldn't, either." He said gently. It wasn't a tone that said he felt that was right, but rather thought it was most likely.

"Is that what is keeping you up, Professor?" Sidheag could feel herself relaxing slightly into the sofa. The tea, though her least favorite, warmed her immensely.

Lyall looked pained as he said, "yes, if I'm going to be honest."

Sidheag nodded. "I suppose I could be said tae empathize with ye on some level."

"Oh some level," he agreed. He looked at her, the corner of his lips quirking up. He started chuckling, covering his mouth.

"The nightgown?"

"Y-Yes," Lyall snorted. "I'm sorry, it's just seems so out of character. The nightcap doesn't help."

"Oh, really? Think it'd look any better on you?" She smirked and, in a flash, had the nightcap on Lyall's head. She tied it in a bow under his chin and sat back, grinning at the ridiculous sight before her. "You know, I think it does look better on ye. Much better."

Lyall's face would be easily described as internally dying of embarrassment. "Please tell me you won't inform the rest of the pack."

"Of course not." She grinned. "Probably."

He sighed and removed the nightcap, looking at it idly. "I do suppose I look rather adorable with it on," he joked.

"Not any more than usual." Sidheag mentally slapped herself while questioning the statement entirely. That is to say it wasn't untrue, but she had no idea where it came from.

Lyall looked at her and said, "I could say the same of you and that nightgown."

Sidheag blinked. "Are you calling me adorable?"

"On this occasion, yes." He said casually.

Something clicked in Sidheag, something in her young werewolf heart, that made her lean forward with her elbows on her knees, and tilt her head to the side while looking at her beta and say, "and would ye call me anything else, Professor?"

Lyall gave a crafty little smile, eyes glinting - he looked very much like the clever fox he was often mistaken for. Laying a hand not all that far from her leg, he leaned towards her and said, "I would call you pretty, my Lady."

Considering the fact Sidheag had never been called anything but handsome in her lifetime, other than by her erstwhile husband, this was a large compliment. And by his composure, it was a genuine one. "And I would call you charming."

"I'm flattered." He was closer to her. When did he become closer to her? They were the same height sitting, and this allowed him to look her straight in the eye. He had a fixing sort of gaze, soft, hazel orbs holding her in place; but only if she agreed to be held. "And I must also say your eyes are lovely."

Now, Sidheag snorted. "That's a load of poppycock, Randolph Lyall."

"Oh no, I mean it." He insisted, all earnest. He sort of tapped the top of her cheek by her eyes, "they're lovely. If you could see how they glint in the firelight..."

"I could say the same for the green in yours. It sort of ... Sparkles." She said in a soft tone, feeling entirely unlike herself. Her heart had started to pound, and she could feel her face flushing. "And as soon as I said that I realized how stupid it sounds."

"Oh, not stupid. Maybe a little bit silly but in a ... Attractive way."

Sidheag and Lyall's faces were now very close. She could feel his breath, and smell his pomade - lemons, she realized. Strange considering his cologne was undoubtedly sandalwood. But it wasn't a bad blend, very pleasant, actually. "So ye do find me attractive, aye?"

"I would assume my previous comments hinted that." She felt him slide his hand on hers; only two fingers and his thumb, lightly laying there. When she didn't react negatively he inched his hand the rest of the way over hers.

"Am I wrong tae assume you're hinting at something else as well, Professor?"

"If you're willing," he said, empathizing the last word deeply.

Sidheag gave a faint nod, her head tilted downward ever so slightly. Lyall took this as invitation and adjusted the angel of his head, kissing her. His lips were soft and the kiss was gentle, and he was certainly in no hurry to end it. When Sidheag tried to pull away to breath, he let her only a gasp before continuing, doing this again and again until she was huffing for air, and he was giving her a sly little smile, seeming completely unaffected.

"My, my, Lady Alpha, I didn't know a scotswoman could reach that shade of crimson."

She huffed air out her nose at him and then took his hand, nodding her head towards the doorway inquiringly. Lyall only nodded. They stood together, somehow managing not to laugh when they had to start kissing with Lyall's head tilted up slightly, which wasn't a new experience for him but certainly new for Sidheag.

They walked from the room hand in hand, stealing kisses and brushing hands on cheeks and running fingers down spines as they did their best not to crash into anything on the way to Sidheag's room.

And when they reached they stumbled in, quickly getting wrapped up in each others mouths and feeling up the sides, lingering here and there as they progressed, so distracted by their current activity that they forgot to lock the door.

TRANSITIONAL LINE:

He nuzzled his face into her neck as he stretched out his legs, untangling them from hers, and yawned. Sidheag didn't move, still laying with her face away from him. He nuzzled her more, working his way to the nape of her neck, which he kissed. She still didn't react. Then he nibbled and she shifted, grinning a bit. And then there was a flat out bite on her shoulder that was so unexpected she gave a single, sharp laugh and rolled over on her back, giving him the oddest look.

"She rises." He kissed her nose.

"Did you just bloody bite me?" She felt around her shoulder, finding deep teeth marks that were slowly rising up as her skin healed itself.

"It's sort of a habit." He mumbled, going back to nuzzling. He was slowly running a hand up her side, tracing the curve of her hip and upwards until his hand was in her hair, playing with the long locks.

"You're strange - and perhaps a little bit mad. Actually, a lot a bit mad. Ye are verra mad, Randolph Lyall."

He grinned against her skin. "Why thank you, my Lady." He kept up his affections, moving his hand to her head and tilting it his way to kiss her. Then he suddenly stopped and sniffed, pulling back. Then he snapped his fingers, right in Sidheag's ear.

"Ow! Ye bloody git!" She half sat up on her elbow, glaring down at him and holding her ear.

"Oh, oh God I'm sorry." He made as if to pull his collar, but found none and instead tilted his head. "I just, uh, had a revelation."

"A painful one, you prat." Sidheag muttered, letting Lyall pull her back down to him nonetheless.

"Rosewater, isn't it?" He asked, tossing hair out from in front of her eyes. "That's what you wear."

"Perfume? Aye ... It took you this long tae figure out?" She looked amused.

"It's very faint. I always could smell  _something_  on you, but I never could figure out what." He shrugged, smiling a bit. His hair was tossed up and over his head, laying in a poof on the pillow. Sidheag's was draped all over hers, a few locks hanging over the headboard and dangling off the mattress. She more than likely looked all the mess, but Lyall still managed to look composed.

She reached a hand over, idly playing with his hair. His fingers drew lines and circles on her lower back, causing her to shiver now and then when his finger glided over just the right spot.

He came at her neck again, kissing softly and nipping now and then before gently clamping down on her shoulder again. Sidheag thought she might like it, as strange as it was, until he suddenly let go and practically flew from the bed and looked slightly panicked before diving under the bed.

Sidheag was baffled and annoyed. She'd just started to growl out a, "what the hell are you doing?" when there was a knock at the door, followed by it opening. The doorway was filled by the very large, very Scottish frame of Lachlan. His hair was brushed back and organized best as any werewolf who wasn't Lyall could manage, a smell of pomade wafting over to Sidheag's sensitive nose.

"Apologies, m'Lady, I assumed you would be awake." Lachlan said, glancing around the room with wide eyes. Sidheag's room had never once, in all the years she'd been on the Earth, been  _this_  clean.

"Why the bloody hell would I be awake? Why are  _you_ awake?" Sidheag growled, now understanding Lyall's frantic diving.

"Because it's maybe thirty minutes to midnight, Lady Alpha?" Lachlan snorted. "Dinnae tell me ye forgot about the party at the Featherstonehaugh's? You accepted the invitation last night?"

Sidheag felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, but covered it up with a glare. "Of  _course_  I didnae forget. I just was, I was -"

"Having a wee bit of fun before the festivities?" Lachlan smirked, pointing at the still evident bite mark on Sidheag's shoulder. She could feel the color drain from her face. Lachlan crouched down and waved. "Hello, Professor. Have a good evening?"

Lyall said something like, "shove off, you prat," but it was muffled by something, possibly his hand.

"Dinnae worry, My Lady," Lachlan said while grabbing the doorknob, "I willna tell a soul."

"Aye, he willna tell a soul, but I sure as hell will!" Called one of the younger pack members, Aiden, before a flash of his figure was seen behind Lachlan. All three wolves sighed.

"I'll take care of him, m'Lady." Lachlan said, then slammed the door.

"Good man, Lachlan," Lyall sighed once out from under the bed. "But disastrously quiet. I suspect he knew."

"Considering no one tried tae wake us up, perhaps." Sidheag sighed while rolling out of bed and going around the side, whacking Lyall's shoulder. "If it wasna for your bloody bite we might have fooled them, at least a little bit."

Lyall looked at her. "Perhaps, m'Lady. Though I've noticed the bite is gone now; I'll have to rectify that later."

"Now what has you thinking there will be a later, hm? Cocky little Professor, you are."

He leaned his head up and kissed her, maneuvering his mouth in a way that was far too pleasant for Sidheag's sanity. "I never heard any complaints, my Lady. In fact I recall you giving a few  _enthusiastic_ responses now and then."

The color had come back to Sidheag's face, full force. "Shut your trap... But I willna deny it."

It was then Lyall helped Sidheag into a dress, even though she was perfectly capable, and cast a few kisses as he buttoned it up. And, true to his word, he rectified the absence of a bite mark on Sidheag's shoulder later. Right after the party, in fact.


End file.
